


between the lines

by AslansCompass



Category: Wayward Children Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-01-15 19:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: Katie Schemb, youngest of three siblings, found her way to a world of books and knowledge, far from the chaos and energy of her family. When that world kicked her out, Katie found her way to Ely West's Home for Wayward Children.





	1. preface

"It's a long story." These four words, put together in that precise order, are powerful magic. A magic of negation, of boredom, of erasure. Most people fall under its sway easily enough, obligingly changing the topic to matters of no consequence.

There are exceptions, of course. Some people hunger for stories; some stories burn to be told. In the right (or wrong) place,  the spell is inverted, an appetizer for a full banquet. Whether short or long, merry or sad, complex or straightforward, the tale must be told, for its own sake, if not that of the teller. 

Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. But not necessarily in that order. There are tales within tales, and characters held in common across all the worlds. 

_It's a long story, and this is mine._

preface to The Book of Worlds, handwritten manuscript


	2. by the cover

Katie breathed in slowly, letting the thin air fill her lungs. Sure, it's cold, but not the bone-deep, deadening frost of October to April. It's merely bracing, like the air during a mid-season football game.

>   
>  I'm flying with my head thrown back, looking up through the skylight at the handful of stars above me.

  
But better, so much better. There's no glaring spotlights, no screaming fans. Just the single-engine plane, shuddering slightly with each revolution. It reminded her of her grandparents' porch swing, a gentle rhythm that could lull you to sleep.

  
But she can't sleep. Mustn't sleep.

  
"Hey? Anybody up here?

  
Where'd the voice come from? There's no radio, no copilot.

  
"So that's where my book went!"

  
Book? Katie lifted her goggles, rubbing at the red marks where it chaffed her skin. What book?

  
"That book. The one you're holding in your hands right now."

  
Book?....oh...book. That's right. She's not in Compendium anymore. She' was sitting on the floor, reading--what was she reading anyway? Journey phylum, pioneering class....had she made it to order yet?

  
The book was snatched out of her hands.

"Little thief!"

  
Indoors, late afternoon daylight, only other inhabitants....Katie looked up at the other girl. A few years older, maybe fifteen or so. Bald(naturally, with no shave pattern) and cracked skin (not winter dry, but cracked like pottery shards). Not someone she recognized. Another new girl, then. "Go away, I'm busy." Katie reached for the book, but the other girl held it to her chest.

  
"Mine," she hissed.

  
Katie frowned. The other girl was only a few inches taller, but muscled and quick, a polar opposite to Katie's own pencil-thin frame. "It belongs here."

  
"What, in your room?" The girl looked around, noticing the rows of bookshelves; some crammed three or more deep, some half-empty, with their contents piled on the floor.

  
"No, in the library."

  
"Hang on, they said this was your room. Your new room, at least... Lissy's still cleaning out your half, says you left all sorts of things down there."

  
"No, it's the library."

  
"Well, where do you sleep then?"

  
"The window seat," Katie gestured to the bay window, full of softcovers and notepaper.

  
"Huh?"

  
So many unnecessary words. "This is the school library. I spend most of my time here anyway, so when we needed more space, I offered to move in here." She took advantage of the confuse to snatch the book back. "So your book is staying here, where it belongs. Can't just leave it with your socks and toothbrush or wherever you were planning to leave it. It wouldn't be right. Would be lonely, all by itself."

  
"It's mine!"

  
"It has to stay here! It would be messy... wrong... everything has to be in order."

  
"Mine." The girl's eyes gleam red. Not with the reflected light, but like lasers or cherries or taillights. "I'm the Fledgling Reborn, Steward of the Woodland Havens, and no one steals from me. No one!"

  
"Well, I'm the Glossographer, High Exegete and Chief Chronicler of Compendium. The gathering of information and organization thereof is my privilege and my duty, and I shall not rest while knowledge remains in disarray."

  
Both stood toe-to-toe, glaring at each other.

  
To an ordinary person, the scene would seem ridiculous--a middle-schooler and a teenager, claiming titles longer than their arms, arguing over the storage of a secondhand copy of Charles Lindbergh's memoir _The Spirit of St. Louis._ But look closer. See the ink stains on Katie's arms, the thickness of her glasses, the weight behind her eyes. And the other girl? Bonnie may be her name, but it is not her nature. Her shadow sprouts massive canopies, a large tail dragging on the floor.

  
This is Miss Eleanor West's Home for Wayward Children, after all. Things are seldom as they seem.


	3. food for thought

The standoff ended when Lissy appeared at the end of the hall.  She wore a simple peasant blouse, but her skirt was so intricately embroidered it was impossible to judge the original color. "There you are. It's suppertime."

"Great, I'm starving." Bonnie exclaimed. "Lead the way."

"That means you too, Katie. You know what Miss Ely said."

"Fine, just a minute." Katie ducked into the room and came back out with a bag slung over one shoulder. "There."  The three of them headed down the stairs and through a few hallways into the dining hall.  Draperies and sconces marked the room's former purpose as a ballroom.  Katie headed straight to one of the corner tables, while Lissy and Bonnie went through the buffet line. 

Katie pulled a book from her bag and began reading aloud. Descriptions of ripe berries and rich cakes filled her mouth, sweet as a honey and light as air.  By the time Lissy and Bonnie came over, she had finished. 

"Gonna keep us company?" Lissy teased. "Don't leave me alone with the new girl."

"I don't bite....well, at least not in this form. It'd be like trying to cut steak with a spoon."  Bonnie bared her teeth. "And even then, only those who deserve it." 

"Does that mean you did bite some people?"

"Of course.  What's the good of being a dragon if you don't do some biting on occasion? And some fire breathing, thought that requires more fineness."

"You were a dragon?"  Katie dug into her bag, coming up with a pen and notebook. "What was it like?"

"You.... you believe me?" Bonnie froze. "You're not going to tell me dragons aren't real, or that transformations are impossible, or ask where I read it?"

"Didn't Miss Ely give you the speech? The 'you can tell the truth here' speech?  The 'real is a four-letter word' speech?" Lissy shook her head.  "Look around you. We're all here for the same reason: we went somewhere unbelievable. Unforgettable. So,  spill it."

* * *

 Katie closed her notebook.  She'd have to clean up the notes later, maybe ask a few more questions before transferring the information to the book. But it was a good story, after all, if not strictly fitting any of the categories she'd studied. 

"Ah, Katie. I was hoping to find you."

Katie looked up to find Miss Ely sitting across from her. The ballroom had emptied a quarter of an hour ago; even the kitchen staff had finished cleaning up.

"First, this came for you."  Miss Ely handed Katie a small envelope. "I thought it best to wait till you were alone."

She ripped it open, skimmed the lines, and set it back on the table.  "I'm surprised they even bothered. Fall sports haven't started yet; no stats to report."  

"I can ask them to stop, if you want."'

"They're not doing it to be mean. They just can't imagine not being interested." Katie shook her head. "Was there something else you wanted to ask me?"

"Thank you for giving up your room. With all these new students coming in, it's getting harder to find places to put them."

"Bonnie makes, what, the fourth this week?"

"Fifth, actually.  All from different points of the compass. Numbers have been increasing all this year. Sometimes, I've had as few as ten students; right now I have sixty-three. "

Katie did a double take. "Really?"

"I try to gather as much information as I can, but I only have so much time in a day. I know you've been writing down your classmates' stories.  I'd like to make it official.  School historian, as it were.  If it's alright with you, I want you to take down stories and share the information with me.  Purely voluntary, but I think most will be eager to talk.  We can put it on your schedule as 'personal narrative' or 'interview skills' or something like that."

"Does I can drop Kabot's class?  No more homophones and vocab quizzes and basic definitions of metaphors?" 

"You're a bit young for independent study, but I can tell you've been frustrated in her class. Let's give it two weeks; I'll see what you've got after that.  If it's going well, I'll excuse you from regular English class. "

"Oh, it's going to be great!" Katie grinned. "Getting out of that baby class _and_ writing stories? It'll almost be like being back in Compendium."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set before Every Heart a Door, so Kade hasn't even gone to Prism yet.


	4. excerpt from The Book of Worlds

Parents always have  _that one story_ , their tried-and-true tale to embarrass you in front of teachers, relatives, and potential friends. 

 

 

> "He ate dog poo!"
> 
> "She was terrified of puppets."
> 
> "She cried when she thought she missed Saturday Night Live--on Monday."

As they didn't do equally bizarre things when they were that age. But the worst part is when they fail to acknowledge that you've grown since then. Yes, you ate poo---when you were two years old. Yes, you were terrified of puppets--when you were  _three!_  You're twelve now (or ten or fourteen or any other age!) 

What story would you tell, if you had the chance? How would you introduce yourself? Not just the standard name-age-random fact of every first day of school ever, but a chance to meet your best friend, to establish your place in the world?

For those of us who have traveled between worlds, the natural impulse wars with the standard disbelief. Would she really believe me? Would anyone? 

Instead, I suggest a third story: the defining moment. The incident where you look back and say, " _that_ is it. That moment is why my world chose me. That is why I stepped through the wardrobe, fell down the rabbit hole, wandered into the strange wood. Because I made that choice years ago."

For me, that moment came in fourth grade, at the first RIF* distribution of the year.  I'd already made my choice ( _Mossflower_ by Brian Jacques) and was hanging out by the back door to see if any of my classmates weren't interested. If they weren't, there were a few other books I had my eye on that they could 'claim' and then hand over to me.  Some of the boys were teasing me, saying they didn't see the point of books anyway,  unless they had pictures of cool cars or hunting equipment, yada yada yada.

I was trying to ignore them, but then Garrett Hess came up with a copy of _Prince Caspian_ and deliberately ripped it in half, right in front of me.

I snatched it from his hands and ran down to the librarian overseeing the event.  "Look what Garret did!"

"Now, Katie, what have we said about tattling?" she said automatically, but then she actually looked at me.  

Garret got sent to the principal's office later, and he wasn't allowed to attend the other RIF distributions either. 

 

That's a story that matters. A story that defines me, in a way those foolish childhood accidents don't.  So look back at your life. What is your story? What choice started you on the path to another world?

* * *

 

*RIF, which stands for Reading is Fundamental,  is a program that offers free, new books to students three times a year.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That incident actually happened to me once. Except I was in high school, not grade school, so the boy involved had even less of an excuse for his behavior.


End file.
